Lady or the Toger Alternate Ending: The Switch Up
by NightHead
Summary: The Lady or the Tiger Alternate Ending for the famous short story by Frank Stockton. A english assignment.


She had known she would be asked, she had decided what she would answer, and, without the slightest hesitation, she had moved her hand to the right. The man's eyes moved, no, slid rather, if sliding can be done in such a sharp manner, directly to the right door. He took a mouthful of air, but lacking the fortitude to inhale, held his breath half-drowned in his throat. The crowd, too, sat breathlessly immobile -soundless in their desire to witness a choice within a choice, or if at all possible, a choice without a choice at all. He grabbed the handle, faltered, stepped back, then surged forward again with a hesitation so smooth and so slight that only those immediately behind him in the arena caught the nuance of his movement, and were left wondering if he had moved at all. Responding to the pressure of his grip, despite its shaky tremor, the door handle creaked. The man darted a stalwart glance of resignation at the princess, realizing that the fires of her soul would scorch him with more heat than what lay already smoldering behind the door, for if she couldn't have him, no-one would. A faint grin flickered on her face before she looked away. Impossible, he thought, unthinkable… nay, she could not smile now! His eyes must be limp without focus. And yet… the man looked at his lover once again, at such beauty; lips as pink as the light rose of dawn, at such eyes hollowed gray by the shadows of her heart. Farewell. Wrenching the door open with a sudden howl of agonized fury, he closed his eyes and waited. He waited. There were no expected pain-shared shrieks, but snickers? No cat-ravenous growls, but a purr? Jolting his eyes open, he looked around blind with confusion. Was there no pain punished by heartbreak, no skin torn to pieces? The man felt a rubbing against his leg. In an instinct-leap of reflex, he flung himself back. Eyes frantically searching, he stared downwards to find not a tiger, but an orange tabby cat with a black stripe across its back regarding him with curious calm. Now the stadium overflowed with snorting choruses of disbelief and laughter. The young man forced his eyes upward, unable to refrain from searching for the king who had wished him dead, and finding him contorted astride his seat bellowing shrieks of anger. A man from the audience yelled that perhaps the tiger-cat would choose to scratch the criminal to shreds. Bemused, the man stuck out his hand, to which, you'll love this, dear reader, that cat responded in a manner most generous. It licked his palm. The royal guards began to move toward the floor of the arena where the man still sat unbelieving and mystified. Unruly with delight, however, the audience swelled out of their seats, blocking the soldiers' movement and demanding to see what was behind the other door. Standing on unsteadily determined legs, the man responded. Opening the second door with only a waver of what once was, he saw a little girl. Round eyes at first drawn to the man and seemingly unperturbed by the shouts of the mob, she was more quickly entranced by the cat who had followed behind the man. With a giggle, she ran out to pick it up. And then…a glimpse of movement, a gasp of recognition. The crowd stilled. It was the princess! The princess had entered the arena and strode forward to stand beside the man. A sweep of her arm and a secret signal brought the guards to a standstill. Through the audience-hushed air came the still crazed demands of the king followed by shouts of indignation as the guards returned to his side, removed his crown, and restrained him with leather straps emblazoned with the princess' personal crest. Loud-voiced with new power, the princess shouted to the audience, promising a new order and an end to the death of those whose only crime was to love. Her first request would be for the people to raise their hand if they thought her lover was innocent. At first, a silence of unbelieving awe – were their opinions actually to be counted? A cadence of stomping began to fill the arena. One after another the people raised their hands. And so, I leave you with this thought in mind: what if this is how the real political system began? After all, voting is still in use today. Just be careful who decides what's behind your doors!

(Sorry I didn't put in paragraphs.)


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